Persephone's Price
by Boducky
Summary: After the war, Zion sends someone to speak to the Mero. All the representative REALLY wants is a glass of water... why does Perse have to make things so damned difficult? Rated T for language and some mature subtext, I guess.


**Persephone's price**

**_Spoiler alert_ for the Matrix Reloaded and the Matrix Revolutions!** If you do not want to be spoiled... don't read this fic.

This fic takes place after the Matrix Revolutions, after the battle has ended. Those who have seen the Matrix Reloaded may remember that kiss between Persephone and. In the deleted scene, Perse pulled the same stunt with Niobe when the human sought her help in finding Morpheus. Something's seriously weird about that woman... does she do this to everyone?

Disclaimer: I do not own the Matrix, do not sue. I tried to get the Twins in my closet, but they phased out. Sneaky bastards.

Random Character insert: Nell, who is probably not in any of the movies (as I kinda made her up), and who is not important. You may forget her after this insane fic.

The instant I step into the room I am overwhelmed by the reek of class and the aura of the uppity, hoity-toity crowd. Ten seconds in the place is enough to make my skin crawl and to make me long for a long, hot shower. Not that it really matters here... it is all illusion and make-believe. Hot water is a luxury that humans no longer have in the real world.

Being the simple, hard-working, low-class person that I am, I felt like I had just been dumped in the lap of luxury and was squirming to get out. Not that I feel inferior in any way... it's just that these people bloody piss me off. Measuring their life by how much money they (think they) have and by all the connections they (think they) have made; I feel superior simply knowing that I'm in on the huge cosmic joke and that the people that really mattered were laughing their asses off at the ignorant little puppets.

The people who matter are now in my sights, sitting at the table at the very back of the high-class restaurant. I head towards them, mentally urging myself to at least try to be polite and tactful. Few people would believe that I am capable of those things, but then again, there are few people I respect. I sure as hell don't respect these people. Having power handed to you doesn't earn you my respect. Playing fucking childish games with said power makes you lose a lot of my respect. Not that these people care at all, I may as well not exist to them. But tonight I have questions, and goddamnit, I am going to get some answers.

The Merovingian sits in the centre of the table watching the patrons with disinterest. I had heard about his "special" cake from Morpheus and doubted that he would be offering any of these ladies a slice. Most seem middle-aged and motherly... the rest seem old and grandmotherly. Perhaps the world's getting a clue and is keeping young, nubile women out of the Merovingian's restaurant. Or perhaps there's some wicked kegger going on, keeping the college girls out all night. It wouldn't surprise me.

The elegant Persephone sits beside her unfaithful husband, utterly ignored and clearly unimpressed. You can feel the cold just radiate from her. The ever-present body guards just lounge around, some looking mildly amused at the friction between husband and wife, most others looking bored to distraction. With the exception of the evil Twins, who are the first to notice my approach, it looks like there's a shortage of good help these days.

The others slowly start cluing in to my presence. The bodyguards shift and edge their hands closer to their concealed weapons. Though Persephone and the Merovingian do not fidget like the others, it's obvious from the looks on their faces that they're aware of me even before some of their entourage is. The old AI raises his hand to stay his guards and looks at me with penetrating eyes.

"_Ma chère_, you have the look of someone who is very in touch with _la réalité_. More so than most in this room." He languidly gestures to the rest of the crowd. "And what brings you here, Mademoiselle…?"

"I have a question, and I think you may be the one with the answer." He smiles slightly as I pointedly refuse to introduce myself.

"And why should I give answers to one who won't even give me a name?" The smile grows minutely, both in amusement and in growing threat. The program knows that he reigns supreme in this place, this palace, and that a single glance would be enough to have me thrown out on my human ass. I fight the urge to sigh.

"Nell," I answer.

"_Nell ma belle_," he whispers seductively. I am not impressed.

"I'm expecting the Beatles to make a song out of it." Few people get the reference. Persephone glances away in disdain, her husband chuckles and sips his wine. From the corner of my eye, the Twins smirk and nod. Who'd have thought the Twin Terrors liked British rock?

A couple of moments pass, in which the Merovingian lounges imperiously in his chair. Cocky bastard. "Please, sit." He gestures to a padded chair in front of the head table. "Can I interest you in something to drink?" He slides a crystal wineglass in front of me. "Or would you like some food? Chocolate cake, perhaps?" The change is slight, but I notice his smile is now a combination of amusement and predatory challenge. I smile and shake a lock of shocking-pink hair from my face.

"Fuck, no," I say sweetly. Persephone seems disgusted by my crude language. "God knows what kind of coding you'll put in it." I'll be damned if I let him think he's going to win me over. "Enough banter and down to business." He huffs slightly and acts put-out. "Our ships' sensors have noticed a minor glitch in the Matrix ever since the death of the entity known as the Keymaker. Many in Zion do not believe that this is cause for worry, but others would feel better if they knew exactly what was going on. You know how humans are…"

The program cut in. "Once you discover something is wrong, you are obsessed with it. Despite the fact that you are powerless to do anything, despite the fact that you cannot possibly understand the cause and cannot alter the effect, you still wish to try to know." He leans back and waves a hand dismissively.

"I was going to say we're obsessive and worrisome, but if that whole 'cause and effect' thing works for you, that's fine." I start feeling a little tickle in my throat and try to ignore it. I usually don't talk this much, so it doesn't take much for my throat to get sore. "Even if we can't understand, people are looking to be reassured. You know the most about this entity; you would best understand what effect his termination would have on the Matrix. Is this something we need be concerned about? Could it affect those still plugged in?" The scratchy feeling persists.

"And what do you offer in exchange for this information?" The Merovingian looks at me cunningly.

"A sincere 'Thank you'?" I venture. I know he'll need more than that, but I don't want to owe this creep too much. The noise he makes is between a scoff and a laugh. I raise my eyebrows, admitting that I was not really serious. My throat still bugs me. I know I have more talking to do. I'll need something to drink, but certainly won't have anything alcoholic in front of this AI. The thought of being even slightly inebriated around him makes my skin crawl. I look to the person closest to the pitcher of ice-water.

"Mme. Persephone, could you possibly pass the water?" I inquire as politely as possible. I'm secretly proud to discover that my voice doesn't crack… yet.

She is unimpressed. "I'll give you what you want, but you have to give me something in return," she murmurs.

"What, for water?" I am incredulous. "What could you possibly want for water? I'll give you a round of applause if you want."

"A kiss," she says simply.

"What?" I jump in my seat, nervous. The Merovingian looks mildly shocked, mildly annoyed.

"Persephone, _ma cherie_," he warns.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"I want you to kiss me as if you were kissing your true love," she continues, ignoring us both. I draw back in my chair.

"You expect me to kiss you for water? Are you crazy?" I turn to her husband. "Is she fucking serious?" He ignores my question and glares at his wife.

"Woman, _ce n'est pas le temps pour ces jeux enfantins_,1" The Merovingian is getting more annoyed. I am getting just a bit freaked out. What is wrong with this woman?

"So much emotion over such a little thing," Persephone sighs.

I turn to the Twins, hoping to finally get a straight answer. "Is she fucking serious?" I repeat. They tilt their heads to the side at the exact same moment, their silver dreadlocks swaying in unison. Pausing, the Twins consider the question before looking at each other, sharing an inscrutable look that is hidden behind their dark sunglasses.

"Probably," they finally reply together. When they speak, their voices are not quite in synch. They are only out by a few milliseconds, the difference is barely perceptible, but it is disturbing nevertheless. Almost one, but not quite. I shudder slightly, both at the effect of their voices and at their answer. They smirk, pleased with themselves that they have made me squirm. Why am I surrounded by cocky bastards?

"Forget it, then. I'm not so desperate for a drink that I'll play into your twisted little lesbian fantasy. I'm not here for pleasantries, anyways. I just want a few answers. Does Zion need to be concerned about this new glitch in the Matrix or can we just ignore it and go about our daily lives?" I glare pointedly at the Merovingian. Ignoring his wife's little display, he smiles serenely and relaxes in his chair.

"And what will you do for me in return?" He risks a slight, mocking glance at Persephone. "Will you kiss _me_ as though you were kissing your true love?" I fight to keep myself from reaching over the table and smacking him. I can't believe these programs.

"Is there anything I can ask for where I don't have to kiss someone to get what I want?" I half-growl.

"You could ask for some chocolate cake, and a glass of wine." The ancient program smirks at me.

"Bastards all," I mumble mutinously, knowing full well that they can hear me. They seem determined to fuck with my mind and make me lose my cool. The former hasn't happened yet and the latter... when my cool gets lost, heads roll. Sometimes. If I really don't like the people around me. Right now, I'm really hating everyone in the room. "Fine. If I have to kiss someone to get anywhere with you people, I'll kiss those two like they're my true love." I point to the Twins. Time for me to do some mind-fucking. I fight back a cringe as that particular phrase invokes dirty and disturbing mental images.

The Merovingian lets out a surprised bark of laughter, Persephone tilts her head in elegant thought. The Twins heads' snap in my direction. They look at me, turn to each other, then look back at me. A slow smirk spreads over their pale lips. At least people find me amusing. I've always hated to be boring.

"What?" I ask. "They're hot, and kudos to you for designing them that way. They're obviously athletic, as hired killers, they really have to be. Besides, _on ne peut pas avoir un ménage a trois avec seulement deux personnes_,2" I add cheekily.

"And what," the program asks between chuckles, "could possibly benefit me in this bizarre little arrangement?"

"Perhaps you'll discover the joys of voyeurism," I offer silkily. "I can easily picture you as a peeping-tom." The chuckling stops and the Merovingian regarded me icily.

"You insult me and you are wasting my time." He starts to make a gesture with his hand. I save him the trouble by standing to leave.

"And you insult me, and you are wasting my time. As a human, my time is limited and therefore more valuable than yours. What are a few moments out of the life of a centuries-old being? I could have done something productive during this time, or at least something enjoyable. And here I stand, a few moments closer to the end of my life and very unamused. I refuse to waste any more time with you, so_ bon soir et allez a l'enfer_3." I nod curtly and turn to leave.

By this time, the Merovingian is on his feet and making his way around the table. He looks pissed. "And your time was wasted for nothing, no reason at all. You come to me with a purpose, with questions, and then don't even have the patience and skill to get any answers you seek. What was the point of all of this if you refuse even to meet our modest conditions?"

By now, the restaurant patrons have started paying attention to us. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. I lean in close and plaster a fake smile on my lips. "The point was to get answers and to ascertain your willingness to help us. I've achieved half of my goal... I've discovered that you're a pain in the ass who is going to make anything we ask of you as difficult as possible. As for my leaving, that is the effect. The cause is the fact that you're a pompous ass, your wife is a crazy lip-leech and you're both to smug and short-sighted to take the new truce between Zion and the machines seriously." I take my sunglasses from the pocket of my white leather jacket and put them on. "Good bye. It wasn't a pleasure making your acquaintance."

If the Merovingian had been human, a vein would have started pulsing in his temple. He looks that angry. Then, surprisingly, he starts to laugh. "Less famous than the three who came to see me in search of the Keymaker, but you certainly are more entertaining_, ma cherie_. Much more entertaining. I was expecting more witty repartee from them, and was sadly disappointed. All business and no pleasure. Well," he added, shooting a nasty look at Persephone, "no pleasure for most involved."

"Since I'm so funny, do I get some of those answers?" I cross my arms, starting to tire of this whole game. The Merovingian decides to keep me in suspense, moving languidly to the table and folding into his chair.

"Not tonight," he admits smiling. "I'm not in the mood to be forthcoming tonight. Come back tomorrow, bring your refreshing anger and indignation, and we shall see. We shall just see. Please, gentlemen, see Madamoiselle Nell out safely." He beckons with his hand. Several guards start moving towards me. I stand stock still, refusing to budge. Even as they stand around me, waiting for me to move so that they could follow, I refuse to give any ground.

"You are dismissed," the AI announces, believing that I am a bit confused.

"You do not fucking dismiss me, I leave when I want to." I know that to them I sound petulant, perhaps on the verge of starting some minor incident in the Merovingian's posh restaurant. I stalk purposefully towards the head table. Half a dozen body guards stiffen and reach for various weapons. They are calmed only when the AI raises his hand to placate them.

I stop inches before the table, reach between candlesticks and arrangements of flowers. My hand grasps the glass handle of the water pitcher and I lift it off the table. I am tempted, for a moment, to spill the entire contents over the bourgeois couple. Instead, I grasp a delicate wine glass with my other hand and pour ice-cold water into it. The glass is fragile against my slightly-cracked lips, the water blissfully frigid as it washes over my tongue and slides deliciously down my throat. So soothing, so wonderful. Nothing the Merovingian could have offered in that restaurant thrilled me as much as the clean, crisp taste of the mineral water in my mouth.

My thirst finally quenched, the aggravating itch in my throat gone, I place the glass gently on the table. I nod to Persephone, who wisely doesn't demand I kiss her, then to the Merovingian. Without a word, I turn around and head out of the restaurant with the body guards hot on my heels.

The elevator ride is long and awkward, as they always are when you are stuck with a group of strangers in a box too small to allow the upholdance of the conventional laws of personal space. I fight the urge to start whistling or to do something equally annoying. Love me or hate me, I don't care. It's indifference that I can't stand.

The bell chimes pleasantly, announcing that we have reached the desired floor. I step through the sliding doors and turn to make sure no one is planning on following me. They don't.

I watch as the doors start sliding shut, determined not to let down my guard until I am far from this damned place. One of the Twins smiles cheekily and blows me a kiss.

My hands dart out quicker than even I expect, one slamming against the edge of the door to make it reopen, the other streaking towards the Twin. I grab his tie and yank him towards me, half-way out of the elevator. Then I plant him with a kiss.

His lips are soft and pleasant. They remain firmly shut for a moment while he is struggling to register exactly what has happened. Then his mouth relaxes and I feel the corners pull up into a smile. The pale lips part slightly, and I can't help darting my tongue in the tiniest bit. He was warm and moist, very inviting. We lean into each other slightly as the kiss deepens. I hadn't lied when I implied that I would do the Twins, concurrently, if they let me. They really are that gorgeous, and I am still a red-blooded woman.

The kiss is intense but brief, ten seconds tops. We pull away, my finger sliding over the silky material of his tie, a satisfied smirk on both our lips. The Twin's pale mouth is slightly tinted pink from the lipstick I wear.

My eyes slide to the second Twin, who had stepped out of the elevator to come to his brother's aid. He now remains close to the door, sensing he is not needed. "Do you mind?" I ask the first Twin, arching an eyebrow slightly.

"Not at all," he replies in his hushed British accent. My heart flutters a bit. Give me that sexy whisper over the Merovingian's smug, self-important tones any day. Not wanting to leave anyone out, I step towards the second Twin, push him gently against the wall and give him a kiss. Soft, silver dreadlocks brush against my face as he leans in. This kiss is just as brief as the first; I didn't want to play favorites. Smoothing the wrinkles from where I had clenched his shirt, I step back and smile. The other bodyguards stand gawking.

"Mmmm, delicious," I purr.

"We agree," the second Twin replies.

I turn and walk away, daintily using my fingers to wipe away the lipstick smears around my mouth. It was true that I hadn't gotten what I came for. The people of Zion may have to try and find answers for themselves, or send another to speak with the Merovingian. Or, I shudder inwardly, I may have to take him up on his offer and return tomorrow. Damnit. They won't give the information away freely, and I am almost certain that their price will be too high. However, I reflect happily, there is no reason why I can't have a bit of fun during negotiations.

_  
English translations:_

_  
1) This isn't the time for these childish games_

_  
2) You can't have a threesome with only two people_

_  
3) Goodnight and go to hell_

**Author's note: I know the language here seems rather crude and harsh, but Nell is just that kind of person. She can't keep a cool façade like Neo and co., she is more emotional. In short, she is like me on a _bad_ day.**


End file.
